A Mud guard sitting on top of on top of a wheel,

forever bound by a shaggy piece of dead moss.

The Back wheel staring at the Front wheel, 

as if jealous of the front wheels near perfect state.

Nearby is a silky Rope connecting the bike to the silver,

beautiful birch tree, the rope coiling around it.

The Front Wheel oblivious to its own beauty,

hid in the fresh green grass of a spring morning.

The Seat worn down, aware of all going on in the

still community of the bike.

The Peddles long forgotten, it’s location unknown.

The Handle Bars once controlled the bike, but 

now much like the Seat now must watch other

the Bike.

Once the Bike had been a community of hard 

working parts, but now because of the arguments 

and toxicicity it is now but a shadow of its former 

self.